3xtasy Lake 3
Wrapped in Fur
Centuries ago, a young faery committed what was considered a dangerous lack of judgment among her kind—she fell in love with a human.
Holly's release from a crystal prison comes with a price. Before Christmas morning, she must atone for the selfish curse she once cast on the human who betrayed her, or she will fade away.
Colwyn and Brand were best friends until a decade ago when a tragedy tore them apart. They both carry emotional scars from that event and haven’t spoken since.
The ethereal woman who brings Colwyn and Brand together again fascinates them both, but loving her is a risk they’re afraid to take. Can they trust each other and accept a gift-wrapped second chance to share one love, and will Holly help heal their emotional wounds?
If they aren't willing to love her, Holly will pay for her past mistakes with her life. Ecstasy Lake is a sanctuary for many secrets, but can it withstand a curse?
Genre: Fantasy, Ménage a Trois/Quatre, Paranormal
Length: 31,488 words
WRAPPED IN FUR
3xtasy Lake 3
Corinne Davies
MENAGE EVERLASTING
Siren Publishing, Inc.
www.SirenPublishing.com
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A SIREN PUBLISHING BOOK
IMPRINT: Ménage Everlasting
WRAPPED IN FUR
Copyright © 2011 by Corinne Davies
E-book ISBN: 1-61926-126-X
First E-book Publication: December 2011
Cover design by Les Byerley
All art and logo copyright © 2011 by Siren Publishing, Inc.
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.
All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.
PUBLISHER
Siren Publishing, Inc.
www.SirenPublishing.com
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DEDICATION
For Chris. My best friend and love of my life. You are always there to hold my hand when I need you the most. I love you.
Many thanks to my friends who have helped me as I traverse the road from idea to published story. Tracey, who is a wonderful beta reader, and Heather Rainier, who is the best critique partner.
All the crazy Righteous Perverts who are always there to share a joke with and bounce ideas off of, especially those who listen to me rant when my characters don’t do what I want them to do.
Extra thanks to Diana DeBalko and the staff at Siren Publishing whose encouragement and help mean everything to me.
WRAPPED IN FUR
3xtasy Lake 3
CORINNE DAVIES
Copyright © 2011
Chapter One
Centuries ago, a young faery committed what was considered a dangerous lack of judgment among her kind—she fell in love with a human.
He came from humble beginnings and she often listened to him talk to others about finding his fortune before claiming his heart’s desire. She saw him as the embodiment of all that she felt her own kind lacked. Passion. Adventure. Humility. Using the small amount of magic within her, she made certain he obtained every goal and ambition.
The young Marshall soon found his place in a prominent position in his world. When the time came, she presented herself to the now proud Lord, positive that he would love her forever. Not understanding human behavior, she had not considered the possibility that the now incredibly spoiled man would see her only as a creature beneath his lofty position, useful to him only as a distraction. He mocked her revelation as the ramblings of a lunatic, easily casting her aside to continue pursuing his own interests. Crushed at his behavior, and her own foolishness, she spat out a malevolent curse. Such dark magic can never be cast without dire consequences, especially if a magical being is both wielder and the recipient.
~ Cris on 3XTC
Aniela puttered around her antique shop as she listened to Cris’s voice tell a story on the radio. The young man had taken to reading obscure tales and myths in the afternoons and matching up soundtracks to them. It was his way of entertaining everyone during the winter months. But this tale thoroughly captured her attention. Due to her distracted state of mind, she didn’t pay attention to what she was doing and missed the table she meant to place the antique box on. Antique wood made a terrible sound when it smashed against the floor.
It was the sound of history destroyed and a loss in any profits she might have made. Not that the antique shop did much business this time of year. Not for the first time, she wondered if she should take her nephew’s advice and spend winters down south.
She gingerly picked up the box hoping it was salvageable, but a large crack had almost split the bottom of the box in two. Adjusting her scarves out of the way and tucking her patchwork skirt under her legs, she sat in the middle of an overstuffed settee and tucked her legs up beneath her. In her lap, she held the damaged box.
“Bloody Hell.”
The crack was larger than she first suspected and ruined the value of the piece. The sun pierced the clouds and filled her dusty showroom with light. She noticed then that there was something jammed into the broken space. She pried the crack open further and pulled out a thickly wrapped package. All the years that stupid box sat on the top shelf and she never knew something lay hidden inside it.
She carefully unw
rapped the package, trying to guess what might be inside. Perhaps her winter home in Florida was closer to reality than she imagined?
Her hands cupped what looked to be a Christmas ornament. A crystal snowflake, roughly the size of her palm, and much lighter than it looked. Six crystalline arms branched out, linking to each other in an analogous, weblike pattern, surrounding a flawless teardrop center. In its heart was a three-dimensional etching of what looked to be a faery. The artist must have been a genius to have the ability to capture a being in such intricate detail, from her delicate wings to the expression of heartbreaking sorrow in her face.
She held the ornament up to the sunlight streaming through the window. The rays bounced off the prism-like object, sending hundreds of shattered rainbows dancing over the painted walls and stacks of knickknacks. The vibrant colors turned the dusty old showroom into a fantasyland. She had never expected to find such a thing of beauty hiding within the false bottom of an eighteenth-century cigar box.
Her first instinct was to contact a friend at the local university and get it carbon-dated. She had no idea how old it might be, but this kind of workmanship was way beyond the artisanship of that century. But she disliked the idea of her theory being proved wrong by something as inconsequential as scientific fact. Reality raised its rational head and offered a few explanations for the ornament’s hiding spot.
Of course, it had to have been placed in the hideaway fairly recently. Even if the estate she purchased it from had been clearing out an attic that hadn’t been opened for over a century.
Of course, where there were dusty attics, there were children, and one must have hidden this and then forgotten about it.
Of course, what other reason could there be…
Further exploration into the hidey-hole revealed an obviously antique piece of parchment. The sheet practically crumbled in her fingers as she unfolded it and read the contents.
Antiques often carried interesting stories and the odd curse or two. Having learned long ago that some things were beyond mortal understanding, she didn’t find it hard to believe what she read on the crumbling paper. If she hadn’t taken an Old English language course in university years ago, she never would have been able to understand what was written.
“It couldn’t be that easy?” Holding the ornament back up to the light she gazed at the small figure inside. “Do I dare?”
She thought of the story that Cris told only moments before she dropped the box. Could this be the faery in the story? What were the odds of her discovering this ornament now? She could have found it years from now, or years ago for that matter? No, she found this when it was time to be found. It was Serendipity, and she owed it to the Powers That Be to see if she could help this poor creature.
Chapter Two
Brand Denninger sifted through the mountain of papers on his desk. With so much still to do, there wasn’t a chance he would make it to dinner now. He glanced up at the woman facing him across his large mahogany desk.
“Kara, please cancel my dinner date with…” He paused, forgetting for a moment whom exactly he was seeing this evening.
“Tiffany, sir?” She finished writing her notes and glanced up, amusement apparent in the twist of her smile.
“Yes. I knew that. Tell her…” He went back to comparing columns of number to the information on his computer. “…well, just tell her something.”
“One thoughtful, yet believable, lie coming up. Would you like me to order you some dinner?”
Brand glanced at the time on his computer. “I would appreciate that, thank you. You don’t need to stay tonight. Go home and enjoy your family.”
His assistant arched an eyebrow at his presumption. “I was planning on it.” She closed the laptop she had been working on and walked across the room. Lifting a small clock from the bookstand on the wall, she twisted the silver key in the back of it. “I’m setting it to go off when your dinner is due to arrive. You still need to eat.”
He smiled at her thoughtfulness. “How could I survive without you?”
“You couldn’t. That is why you’re going to give me a raise.”
Brand grinned slightly. “All right, deal, but don’t order me anything from those health nuts you like so much. I think my front teeth are growing.”
“You do realize one day you will have to find someone else to watch over you.” She gathered up her notes and laptop. “And you’re not going to find her under that mountain of paperwork.”
He met her comment with a low, uncommitted grunt, having heard this particular suggestion many times before. It wasn’t the first time she’d made a comment like that despite the numerous dates he went on. He tried not to think about how dismal his personal life had become. He hadn’t shared a woman in over a decade and believed he never would again. The intense kind of friendship he needed to share didn’t happen all that often, and he’d destroyed his one chance. Sharing a woman with anyone other than Colwyn Marshall didn’t hold any appeal to him at all.
The incessant ringing of an alarm brought him out of the trancelike state he often obtained falling into numbers and columns and tallies. Most of the information on his desk had been input and balanced, leaving him with a feeling of accomplishment. He could finish this…just a few more minutes, an hour at the most. He would feel better when he finished. Without lifting his gaze from the computer, he reached over to press the off button. His fingers brushed a piece of paper that had been stuck to the front of the alarm.
Kara’s elegant script graced the bright yellow sticky note. Eat before you go back to work!
It was frightening how well she knew his habits. Too bad she wasn’t single. Having a wife this in tune with him would be convenient. A knock at the door announced the arrival of his dinner. After dealing with the pizza delivery guy, he sat down, slice in hand, only to have his phone ring. He glared at the offensive sound, debating for a moment whether to ignore it or not. When it continued to ring, it was obviously a family member. That also meant it would continue to ring unless he answered it.
“What the hell are you doing there this time of night? Did I teach you nothing, young man?”
Brand smiled. Auntie Aniela. Her raspy voice sounded fragile, a complete opposite to the feisty woman he knew her to be. He had spent many summers working in her antique shop, helping with the books, which was what had started his love with numbers and columns. His eccentric aunt balanced her time with him by filling his young head with fantastic stories of different objects that just happened to be in her store at the time. Once he reached his teen years, he spent more time causing trouble with the locals than in her shop.
“I’m working, Auntie. We’re coming up on tax season and I have to be caught up.”
“Oh, pishposh. You are never behind or disorganized. You forget with whom you’re talking, mister. You need to come to the store. The most amazing thing happened today. You have to see her to believe it.”
“I’m in Vancouver, remember. I can’t simply pop in for a visit for a day. I’ll still try to make it over the holidays at some point but I can’t leave right now. I’m sorry, just too busy. I’ll be working through the holidays at this rate.” He could hear her horrified gasp and could effortlessly envision the look on her face. Grinning, he took a bite of his fast-cooling pizza.
“You will do no such thing. I expect to see you on Saturday, Brand Anthony Denninger, or else. Bring something nice. I have a visitor for the holidays. She will be here for dinner.”
He choked on the lump of pizza in his mouth, the line disconnecting before he could respond. Not that it would do him any good. Once his aunt had decided something, the gods themselves couldn’t change her mind. He shouldn’t have baited her, but he couldn’t resist. No doubt, she had rooked one of her friends to come for dinner, or worse, one of her friend’s granddaughters. Being pestered over his single status during dinner was the quickest way to ruin his appetite. He didn’t relish the idea of eating half a bottle of Tums instead of turkey. There wa
s always the possibility that she had invited one of the strays from the shelter that she liked to volunteer at. That must be it.
After living in Ecstasy Lake for so long, his aunt trusted everyone and never thought that anything bad could happen to her. Having a home in a sanctuary for shape-shifters had its advantages, but bad things could still happen. The thought of someone taking advantage of her infuriated him. He couldn’t allow it to happen. Ever. Pizza forgotten, he focused on the computer screen, determined to finish even if he had to work through the night.
What if I’m too late, again? He left Ecstasy because of a terrible mistake he made. Memories of Brittany’s horrified expression flooded his thoughts. If only he approached her differently, perhaps she wouldn’t have died.
He picked up his cell and flicked his thumb over the screen, calling up his contacts. No matter how many phones he went through there was one number he always input into his contacts first. The only one he never called. His hand trembled and his heart pounded a rapid beat against his ribs as he stared at the cell. His number might be different now. It’s been ten years. He’ll probably tell me to fuck off the minute he realizes who it is.
* * * *
Aniela hung up the phone with a huff. “Can you believe that boy?” She lifted a full tray from the kitchen counter. “For someone that intelligent, it amazes me how slow he can be.”
Davies, Corinne - Wrapped in Fur [3xtasy Lake 3] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) Page 1